Page 2 of The Sundered Blade

“About as certain as one can possibly be when it comes to pigeons,” he responded dryly, not bothering to turn from his contemplation of the dark waters slipping by beneath the ferry. Even the bright, full moon was not enough to illuminate anything beyond the surface of the waves, and for that mercy, Vaniell was entirely grateful. He was no fan of deep water, nor of whatever things might prove to be swimming in it. The captain had assured them that there was nothing worse than eels, dolphins, and the occasional giant shrimp, but Vaniell remained unconvinced.

Much like Kyrion.

“I do not care to risk my bondmate’s safety on your possibles or your pigeons.”

Which was a fair assessment. There was a reason pigeons were rarely used to deliver messages outside of Iria—aerial predators often picked them off like tiny feathery snacks.

But the Wyvern King of Dunmaren had a way of making every sentence sound like a threat. And given that he was quite masterful at lurking, his presence behind Vaniell’s left elbow was beginning to cause a distinct ache between the prince’s shoulder blades. The sort of ache that portended a potential sword between the ribs in his near future.

“Leisa will be traveling with Karreya,” Vaniell said, turning around and leaning against the rail with entirely feigned indifference. It was really a tossup whether he was more nervous about Kyrion’s glowing stare or the likelihood that the ferry’s railing would collapse under his weight. “Between the two of them, I doubt they are likely to encounter any enemy they cannot stab or pummel into surrender.”

Kyrion’s lips drew downward in evident distaste. “Am I expected to find it comforting that she will be in the company of an imperial assassin? As they make their way to the very last place that is safe for either of them to be?”

“That’s why it’s such a perfect plan.” Vaniell shrugged and crossed his arms as nonchalantly as possible. “No one there knows them, and no one would expect an enemy to waltz right into the high sanctum of villainy like that.”

Kyrion’s glare did not abate.

“Relax,” Vaniell said with a crooked grin. “Karreya can do this in her sleep. And Leisa knows the place inside and out.” He’d been more than a bit startled to find outwhyshe knew it, but her experiences while masquerading as Princess Evaraine now made her the perfect person to accompany Karreya on this mission.

Which would begin the moment they all disembarked from this boat.

Their little group would be splitting up—each of them with a task to fulfill, all of them heading into certain and undeniable danger. And no matter how skilled and deadly Karreya was, the thought of being separated from her filled Vaniell with a complex set of emotions he’d seldom really grappled with before.

For the first time in his life, he’d gone and fallen in love. There was no longer any point in denying it. He would be perfectly happy to spend the rest of his days appreciating his favorite assassin’s bone-dry sense of humor, her straightforward approach to life, her matter-of-fact competence, and her gift for seeing straight to his heart. He wanted to tell her how he felt, but there was also no point in denying how impossible their relationship would be. To tell her might only cause them both pain in the end, and anyway, what could she possibly want with him? He had none of the strengths she’d been taught to value, and not even a hovel to call his own.

For all of those reasons and more, his courage had deserted him each time he’d had the opportunity to speak, and now she was about to leave. He might never see her again, and the thought had snarled both his body and mind in knots of tension, frustration, and confusion.

And because he was all tangled up inside, he fell back on old habits that had always served him well in the past. He knew Kyrion was the last person in Abreia that he ought to be needling, but that only made the urge stronger.

“Perhaps what you are really afraid of is that the two of them will storm the castle and this entire battle will be over before we have our chance to shine.”

The night elf was not noticeably amused by Vaniell’s attempt at humor. “Considering that you shine brightest when exercising your considerable gift for irritating people, I don’t believe I have any reason to worry.”

“What can I say?” Vaniell grinned cheekily. “If one’s enemy grants them a weapon, it would be downright ungrateful not to use it. When people are irritated, they make mistakes, and I…”

With a loud crack that echoed out over the water, the railing behind him gave way, and he fell. Back and down towards the cold, dark waters of the gulf. Into the deadly embrace of whatever slimy, tentacled monsters lurked in its depths…

A sudden jolt stopped his inexorable descent, as a silver-gray hand caught the front of his shirt in an iron grip. Vaniell was too startled to do anything but fight for breath.

“Thank you,” he gasped out, trying not to look at the water still churning beneath him. “I’m not actually that great at swimming, so…”

“Well then, Princeling. Perhaps this is a good day to learn a new skill.”

And that was all the warning Vaniell had before Kyrion’s hand opened and he hit the water with a resounding splash.

“What was that?”

He heard Leisa’s voice, and then others, but only in snatches as he bobbed up and down, doing his utmost to stay above the surface while trying not to think about what might be sharing the water with him.

Kyrion stood by the broken railing, his arms crossed over his chest and his lips quirked as if he finally found something amusing.

It was Karreya who tossed Vaniell a rope and hauled him back aboard, dripping and shivering, while Kyrion watched, Leisa tried not to laugh, and Senaya seemed little better than resigned to their youthful idiocy.

“There are simpler ways to tell me that I smell,” Vaniell managed to say between chattering teeth, as Karreya threw a blanket around his shoulders with a curiously blank expression.

“But no simpler ways to induce you to listen.” Kyrion’s eyes gleamed balefully in the darkness, and Vaniell couldn’t suppress the sudden urge to grin.

“I must admit,” he announced, while using the corner of the blanket to squeeze the disgusting gulf water out of his hair, “it is a tremendous relief to discover that you aren’t nearly as stoic and otherworldly as you look. The fact that you’re capable of being petty and underhanded actually makes me like you a great deal more.”

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